


Heels Over Head

by kingsofeverything



Series: the butthole series [2]
Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Actor Harry Styles, Crack, Famous Harry Styles, Famous Louis Tomlinson, Harry Styles Does Yoga, M/M, Masturbation, Meet-Cute, Musician Louis Tomlinson, Smut, Voyeurism, Yoga
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-26
Updated: 2019-11-26
Packaged: 2021-02-26 02:13:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,455
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21575821
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kingsofeverything/pseuds/kingsofeverything
Summary: Louis Tomlinson returns from tour to find that his new next door neighbor doesn't realize his backyard is not completely private.
Relationships: Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson
Series: the butthole series [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1554937
Comments: 44
Kudos: 422





	Heels Over Head

**Author's Note:**

  * For [YesIsAWorld](https://archiveofourown.org/users/YesIsAWorld/gifts).



> NIC thanks for sending me this [prompt](https://twitter.com/sisterofonline/status/1198818434152161280?s=21) because I haven't stopped laughing about it. Love you and thank you for everything!
> 
> **If you’d like to translate any of my fics, feel free, but please post the translation on ao3.**
> 
>   
> **Please do not post this fic or any of my other fics on any other websites.**  
> 

After a long year touring, Louis is happy to be back in L.A. He’s missed his house and waking up in the same bed everyday. When the driver drops him off, he notices some changes in the house next door: potted plants, topiaries, and a car parked out front. He’ll have to find out who moved in, go over and introduce himself in the morning. 

The next day, after a jet lagged night’s sleep, Louis wanders out onto the second floor balcony off of his bedroom with a cup of coffee and a joint. It’s his favorite place in his house, besides his bed. He and Liam often write out there, he even naps out there occasionally, and is seriously considering having one of those giant bed swings installed. Once he has a good buzz going and finishes his cup of coffee, he pushes himself up off his chaise lounge and takes the rest of his joint to the porch railing to enjoy the view he paid all that money for. 

In the backyard of the house next door, the pool is uncovered and clear, and there are other changes too. New chairs line the pool edge, and it just generally looks lived in, but in a good way. It makes him happy to see because the house is beautiful, but it was vacant for a long time. Just when he’s thinking that he should stop over after lunch and welcome them to the neighborhood, someone in very small black shorts walks out onto the back deck. 

His new neighbor, a tall, well-built man, with dark wavy hair and more tattoos than Louis can count, unrolls a yoga mat in the middle of the deck. He looks familiar, but Louis can’t quite place him. This is L.A. after all, and it’s just as likely as not that the new neighbor is someone famous, or even someone he knows, but he doesn’t want to be creepy and stare, so he moves to the other side of the deck to finish his joint before going inside. 

In his haze of weed and jetlag, he forgets about his new neighbor until Liam calls that night to ask if he’s up for jamming and maybe writing together the next morning since both of their internal clocks are screwed up. Louis tells him it sounds like a great idea and Liam asks if he’s met his new neighbor yet because Niall told him that Harry Styles moved in next door and they’ve got a bet going on how long it’ll take before Louis does something stupid to impress him and has to sell his house and move to New York to avoid him. With a loud, dramatic scoff, Louis hangs up. A moment later he texts Liam to tell him to bring him a latte in the morning and to ask about the details of the bet with Niall. Liam says he’ll tell him in the morning.

———

Liam shows up before Louis rolls out of bed, but he does bring coffee and pastries, so Louis lets him in and leads him onto the balcony, guitar in one hand, Tupperware container of weed in the other. 

“So have you met him?” Liam asks, but Louis isn’t fooled. He’s only interested in winning his bet with Niall. 

“No. I was going to go over yesterday afternoon, but his car was gone. So maybe I’ll try later today.” Louis shrugs and takes a quick hit off the joint before passing it over. He exhales, leaning against the railing and looking into Harry’s empty backyard. Maybe he doesn’t do yoga every morning. “Saw him doing yoga yesterday.”

“Creep,” Liam says and Louis rolls his eyes. 

He sits and picks up his guitar, ignoring Liam for the most part until he actually starts to work on the song. They’re not super productive, but they have a good time, eating chocolate croissants and smoking more between spurts of ‘songwriting genius’, as Liam calls it. As the sun rises in the sky, they decide to take a break, even though it’s still morning. Louis rests his forearms on his porch railing, glancing over when he sees something move in his peripheral vision. Harry with his yoga mat. He looks around his yard somewhat suspiciously, and for a second Louis panics, paranoid that Harry can smell his weed. Shaking his head, Louis goes back to his chaise lounge and convinces Liam to stay for a while so he’s not tempted to spy on Harry. 

A little while later, Liam slides his sunglasses on and puts his guitar away. He stands and looks towards Harry’s yard, gasping quietly and covering his mouth with his hand. “Louis, oh my god.”

“What?” Louis jumps out of his chair. Maybe there’s a bug on him or something.

“Your new neighbor, Harry Styles?”

“Yeah?” 

“I just saw his butthole.”

“What?” Louis rushes to the porch railing, joint in hand, and freezing the second he sees into Harry’s backyard, if you will. 

Right there in the middle of his deck, on his yoga mat just like the day before, except that this time he’s completely naked, is Harry Styles. It’s possible that what he’s doing is a yoga pose and that he just happens to have no clothes on while doing it, but… On his back, with his body bent in half, legs in the air, so that his hands grip the soles of his feet, it genuinely looks like he’s trying to suntan his asshole. Maybe he is. Maybe it’s some sort of new age, DIY, anal bleaching. Louis grabs Liam by the elbow and steers him inside the house.

“Holy shit,” Louis whispers.

“Yeah, that was wild.” Liam snickers and says, “I have to call Niall.”

“You can’t tell Niall!” Louis feels himself start to panic a bit, as if it’s his own asshole that’s on display in his neighbor’s backyard. He takes a deep breath, and tells Liam, “Don’t you dare say anything to Niall or anyone. Harry deserves to have his privacy respected.”

“Maybe he shouldn’t, um… do whatever it is he’s doing then,” Liam suggests. Then, wide-eyed and excited, he says, “You’ll have to tell him. You have to go over there, introduce yourself, tell him you saw his junk, and you’ll have to do it soon. I’m winning this bet!”

“I hate you,” Louis says because Liam is right. Maybe he doesn’t have to say that word for word, but he’ll have to say something. 

——— 

That afternoon, once he’s showered and closer to sober, Louis heads next door. He’s an adult. He can handle telling Harry Styles — his favorite actor and only celebrity crush — that he should consider wearing clothes while he does yoga in his backyard. He can do this. That’s what Louis tells himself repeatedly on the walk next door. With shaking hands, he rings the doorbell.

Positive that Harry’s home — his car is out front, there’s music coming from somewhere in the house, and it’s Sunday — Louis waits. And waits. And rings the bell again. He waits some more because he thinks he hears someone on the other side of the door, but eventually he gives up and goes home. After texting Liam for some moral support because he knows Niall will only try to convince him to put it off, Louis decides to write Harry a note. It takes him a couple of tries and he’s gone through half a dozen sheets of paper at least when he finally settles on proper wording. 

_Hello, neighbor!_

_I hope this doesn’t come across as rude or imposing, but I spend most mornings on my second floor balcony and I’ve noticed that you enjoy practicing yoga in your backyard. I wanted to make sure you’re aware that while your fence does afford some privacy, your back deck is still visible from my porch. If you’re around this evening around eight, I’m planning to grill some steaks, and you’re more than welcome to stop by so we can meet properly. Sorry to introduce myself this way, but I stopped by earlier and no one was home._

_Hope to see you later,_

_Louis Tomlinson_

Louis uses his nicest stationery and seals the envelope, carrying it over and wedging it the front door. He could swear he hears someone moving around inside the house again, so he rings the doorbell for good measure, but after a moment, he decides he must’ve imagined it and goes home. 

For the rest of the afternoon, Louis pretends that he has a date with Harry Styles. It’s the only way he can convince himself to do housework and prepare everything for a meal for two without losing it completely while thinking about Harry’s naked bum. Hopefully, his note didn’t come across the wrong way. He’s better at songwriting, but it’s not like he could write Harry a song about accidentally seeing his asshole. Maybe he could, but definitely not in one day. 

At eight o’clock, nothing happens. Louis stares at the door for a moment, then decides to go start the grill. Whether Harry shows or not, he’s hungry. Just when he’s about to give up and run upstairs for his Tupperware, the doorbell rings and Louis almost drops the plate of raw steaks on the kitchen floor. Instead, he carefully sets them down on the counter and forces himself to keep a normal pace and not sprint for the door. 

He swings the door wide open and _wow_. Harry Styles is a beautiful man. So beautiful that Louis forgets his manners and just looks at him for a bit until, cheeks turning pink, Harry sticks his hand out and says, “Hi, I’m Harry Styles. I live, um… next door.”

“Oh!” Louis grabs his hand and shakes it, probably a little too vigorously, and says, “Sorry. Yes. Come in, Harry. I’m Louis. Tomlinson. But you probably know that. Not because I’m like, famous, but because I wrote my name on the note I left in your door.”

They stand there blinking at each other, and Louis wonders if Harry’s considering running off into the night. He steps aside and gestures for Harry to come inside, and thankfully, he does. 

“I do know who you are. Big fan, actually,” Harry says, clasping his hands and rocking back on his heeled boots. His face and neck and chest — of which Louis can see a lot given that he’s only buttoned three of the buttons on his shirt — continue to grow brighter pink while Louis tries to remember how to speak. 

“I am too!” Louis finally says, voice echoing off the tile in the entryway. “I mean, I’m a fan of yours.”

“So, it’s mutual, then?”

“Yeah, um… Thanks for coming over.” Louis nods towards the back of the house and says, “Was just about to start dinner. You want a glass of wine? Beer? Water?”

“Wine’s good. Thank you for inviting me.” Harry smiles and combs his fingers through his hair, a nervous habit Louis may have noticed in one or two interviews he’s watched. 

It shouldn’t, but it makes him feel a little better that Harry’s nervous too, though he probably has more reason to be, after all, he’s the one doing naked yoga and showing his butt and cock to his neighbors. They make small talk while Louis cooks. It’s all he can handle when he’s trying not to set fire to the food, which is much more difficult a task with Harry there. It’s harder than Louis expected to forget that he’s seen Harry naked, and every time he looks at him, he remembers. He hopes it isn’t written on his face that he’s picturing Harry’s naked yoga inside his head. 

“Hey, so…” Harry leans over the grill to watch Louis flip the steaks. “I’m sorry about, well, you know.”

“Hmm?” Louis blinks at him, lips pressed together as he smiles and tries not to smile at the same time. He refuses to be the one to say it out loud. 

“So… The thing is, I’m working on this movie, but it’s all filmed in a studio. I’m inside all the time. And with Daylight Savings over, I’m not getting enough vitamin-D.” Harry scrunches his nose, which Louis also recognizes from Harry’s interviews as a sign he’s hiding a smile. He wonders if Harry thought ‘vitamin-Dick’ as well. Louis busies himself by poking at the steaks with his spatula, and Harry says, “Right. Anyway, my yoga instructor told me about this, um… practice? It’s supposed to be like, super concentrated sunlight. Like… You’re supposed to be able to get the benefits of a full day of sun in just a few minutes.”

It takes Louis a little while to take Harry’s words and translate them inside his brain. And after he thinks he’s figured out what Harry’s saying, he has to go back over it to be absolutely sure. And even then, he has to ask, “You’re suntanning your asshole?”

A great, loud, barking laugh leaves Harry, seemingly against his will, because he belatedly slaps a hand over his mouth, but it’s way too late to contain the noise. With wide eyes, he slowly lowers his hand and nods. “I mean, not just my… Well, it’s more like, um… perineum sunbathing? But… yeah.”

Louis snorts and he can sense an enormous bout of laughter bubbling up, so he hurriedly pulls the steaks off the grill, dumping them onto the waiting plate. He giggles so hard that his eyes water and then genuine tears start to fall when Harry joins in, bent in half and slapping his knees. They laugh so hard and for so long that Louis gets a cramp in his side and has to lie down on the grass to stretch it out. It’s the funniest thing he’s heard and Harry said it so seriously… 

“Does it work?” Louis asks, looking over at Harry, who’s also sprawled on the ground just a few feet away. 

“Not sure,” Harry says. “Maybe. I feel really silly doing it, so I, um… I get high first. But I think it might be? I’m really sorry though, that you had to see that. I thought with a twelve foot fence, I was pretty well hidden.”

“Well, you’re not. Not at all,” Louis says, giggling into his hand. “Tell you what. If you want to do your naked yoga, I’m not always on my balcony. So, we can exchange numbers and you can let me know if you need me to, um… go inside. And I can let you know if I’m planning on spending time on my balcony.”

“That’s kind of you, Louis,” Harry says, rolling over and standing. He offers a hand to help Louis up. 

They have dinner together that night, and the next morning, Harry texts him that he’s doing yoga and Louis stays inside until the coast is clear. Over the next few weeks, they have dinner together some nights, and lunch some weekends, and breakfast a couple of times after Harry finishes yoga. It’s fun and they get along so well that Louis wants to ask him out more than he wants to do pretty much anything else. But he refrains. 

——— 

Almost every morning, Louis waits for Harry to let him know he’s finished his daily rising routine, which is apparently what it’s called when he lays on the ground and collects sunlight in his asshole, and then he goes onto his balcony for coffee and a smoke. It helps him get back into the routine of living at home instead of being on tour, and even Liam notices a difference in his demeanor from regular sleep and waking patterns. 

After a month or so of this, Louis wakes up one Sunday morning, and once he drinks his coffee in his kitchen and still hasn’t heard from Harry, he sends him a quick text that he’s going onto his porch for a little while. Before he can get outside, Harry responds that he hopes Louis enjoys his balcony. It’s so _Harry_ to say little things like that. Louis leans on the railing with a smile on his face. 

From the corner of his eye, he notices Harry walk onto his back deck wearing his little black yoga shorts, carrying his mat. He frowns as Harry unrolls it, straightens it out and stands at the end of it. As Harry moves through a series of poses, Louis decides that Harry must be planning to do a quick yoga session before he goes somewhere else for the day, and that’s why he didn’t mention anything about needing the time to do his daily rising routine. And since Harry knows he’s up there, he figures it’s okay to watch for a little while, promising himself that he won’t stare for too long. A couple of minutes into it, he steps away from the railing and sits down, sparking his joint and sipping on his second cup of coffee. More than a month into knowing Harry and maybe he’s finally ready to ask him out. If he can catch him after his practice, he’ll try to get his attention and invite him over for dinner. Louis drops his joint back into the ashtray and goes to the railing, thinking it’s just about time for Harry to finish up. 

It seems like he’s right because Harry is standing. He looks up and meets Louis’ gaze, then turns around and drops his tiny black yoga shorts to the ground. Unable to move or breathe or do anything other than blink, Louis watches as Harry bends over and rearranges his mat. He stretches out on it, pressing his hands into the mat beside his hips and lifting his legs up and grabs the soles of his feet, putting himself on display. 

Louis remembers that he needs oxygen and takes a deep, shuddering breath. Against his will, his dick is getting hard, and he reaches down to push it back where it belongs. Unfortunately, touching himself is not the way to convince his semi to go away. The thing is, it’s not even a sexy pose. Literally, nothing about it is hot except for the fact that Harry is beautiful and funny and kind and lovely and Louis wants him to be his boyfriend and possibly his husband at some point in the future and also he really wants to fuck him. So, yes, Harry lifting his asshole up to directly absorb sunlight has somehow become a turn-on. And he can’t look away. 

By the time Harry carefully lowers his legs down so that he’s lying flat on his back, Louis’ cock is begging for attention. He squints, leaning over the balcony to be sure, and… Harry’s hard too. Before he can think too much about it, Louis pushes his sweatpants down and kicks them off his ankles, wrapping a hand around himself just as Harry does the same. He’s not close enough to see every detail, but he can follow Harry’s movements well enough. 

Jerking himself in time to Harry’s strokes, Louis keeps himself on edge, focusing on Harry instead of chasing his own release. The tight grip he keeps on his cock almost feels like Harry’s hand and he wonders if Harry’s thinking the same or if this is all some sort of weird game to him. He doesn’t think so. Maybe if this happened that first day, but not now, after they’ve spent time together, talking and laughing and getting to know one another. 

Harry’s hips buck up and Louis moans, imagining him doing the same with Louis in his lap, riding his cock right there in the middle of Harry’s backyard. The visual brings his orgasm closer, and when Harry whines, the sound carrying through the yard and up to Louis’ balcony, Louis comes over his fist, splattering the balcony railing and floor. His throaty groan must reach Harry’s ears, because Harry lolls his head to the side, serene smile on his face as he catches Louis’ eye and lifts his hand, wiggling his fingers in Louis’ direction. 

Waving back because it seems like he should, Louis laughs quietly, but doesn’t move away from the railing until Harry gets up from his mat. Then Louis quickly grabs his discarded sweatpants and wipes his hand clean, digging in the pockets for his phone. Before he can unlock it to send Harry a message, his phone vibrates in his hand with a text from Harry, asking, “Dinner tonight?”

Louis grins and responds, “It’s a date.”

The next text is to Liam to let him know both he and Niall lost the bet. Louis thinks he’ll make them pay for him to take yoga classes.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!
> 
> [Tumblr post to reblog!](https://kingsofeverything.tumblr.com/post/189319890995/heels-over-head-by-kingsofeverything-louis)
> 
> [Tweet to retweet!](https://twitter.com/kingsofthings/status/1199483495556493312?s=20)


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